


The Sentinel Project

by Cedara



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-30
Updated: 2011-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-17 09:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cedara/pseuds/Cedara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Xover/fusion with The Sentinel and was written for the After Holidays Prompt Fest on livejournal. The prompt was: Steve is the sentinel and Danny is his guide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sentinel Project

Limbs feeling like lead, his brain unusually sluggish, Steve McGarrett instinctively knew that something was wrong. He couldn't hear the wind or the other sounds from his environment which drifted in through the window of his bedroom every day. Listening carefully he couldn't hear any traffic from the street, no birds, not even the lapping of the waves from the beach at the backside of his house. Confused, he opened his eyes, feeling a rush of adrenaline flashing through him that set his mind in gear.

Something was wrong, out of place, and he felt on edge. Instantly alert, his senses bombarded him with details. Dark, light, muffled sound, wood - rough and untreated, plastic, mold, mushrooms, decay, heat cold. Where was he? This wasn't his bed.

Listening hard, he remained still, not wanting to give away his position to anyone who might be close by, who might be watching. Nothing. No breathing, but his own, which sounded hollow and distorted. Everything else was muffled like he was underwater. There was no rocking, though, which meant he was in a small enclosed space. Fumbling around, he realized the material surrounding him was made of solid wood, fifteen inches above him and ten inches on each side.

He was lying on his back, it was dark, but he couldn't feel anything across his eyes. A beam of strong sunlight hit his chest. It felt uncomfortably hot in that area, indicating it was around midday. Something was covering his mouth. Reaching up, he met with hard plastic - oxygen mask? Time to assess what he did have. Somehow, someone got the drop on him and it happened over twelve hours ago.

He'd been at home, Friday, around 6pm, girl scout cookies week. There were two boxes in the kitchen that Steve had bought last Tuesday. He'd been thinking about dinner, drinking a few beers when it'd happened. Someone had knocked at the door and Steve had opened it, not expecting a threat. Nobody had been there and when Steve had stepped outside and turned around, he'd felt a sting at his neck. Instinctively touching it, he'd recognized the blow dart. A second later, he'd dropped unconscious and apparently just woken up.

Checking his clothes, he noticed he was still wearing his usual cargo pants, t-shirt and boots combo. There even was money in the usual pocket of his cargoes. He still had his watch. Steve searched for his boot knife next, hoping whoever had kidnapped him hadn't known about his tendency to carry that helpful accessory around. It was still there.

Convinced that he'd been in this situation before, Steve tried to figure out why. All missions had a moment of familiarity, of sameness. It came with the training. If you did something over and over again, it becomes muscle memory, you react, you don't think. You only stop to think when something is different.

Something was new.

What was it?

The breathing mask.

Yanking the mask off his face, Steve traced the line to a metallic container at his left. Pulling it carefully up to his head, he tried to read what was in the bottle. It was too dark in the box to read the label even with the little bit of light seeping into the space. It didn't work.

The sound of air still passing the tube told Steve that the bottle wasn't empty yet. Pinching off the tube, he ran his fingers over the outside of the container. Its raised markings on the outside identified it as oxygen. Relaxing a notch, Steve let the tube go. No real threat there. Not knowing how much longer he did have before the oxygen ran out, he let its content seep into the box and put the bottle back where he found it.

He still needed to get out of the box.

Retrieving his boot knife, he began to pry at the hole where the light was coming in. It was hard work. The knife slipped a few times, gouging at his fingers and the wood at the same time. His fingers were a bloody mess between scraping at the loosened bits and the knife, since he couldn't see when the knife blocked the light. Bits of dirt fell into the box, covering his t-shirt, getting into his eyes. Steve wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, ridding it of soil and sweat.

Slowly making progress, he focused on making the hole bigger before the ground caved in above him. He knew though, that he didn't have much time. The more he moved around, the more energy he expended, the quicker the oxygen ran out. No matter what, he needed to see what he was up against and figure a way out of here.

Finally, the hole was wide enough to push his hand through. Steve could feel the dirt on his fingers, delighted at how fantastic it felt - loamy, but not too thick, which told him he was in the jungle. He wasn't buried in too deep, which meant that he could punch his way out.

Pulling his hand back inside, he listened carefully to the sounds around him. Sounds were wafting in - the loud chirping of birds, the roaming sounds of animals, but no human chatter. The smell was different than in the box - moist, fragrant, like it would rain soon. He could feel his home again. The air, the sunshine on his face, the earth beneath his feet. Wait? Didn't he have his boots on? Hadn't he just been inside the box?

He looked up in the distance drawn by the sound of a familiar voice. Focusing on that, Steve felt the jungle slip away into the background, and all he could see was a man waving his hands, who had blond hair, wore a tie, slacks and dress shoes: Danny, yelling towards him, to move over there, where he was. At the same moment, Steve distinctively knew that _this_ was wrong, that he was dreaming about his kidnapping three months prior. The thought apparently was enough to pull him out of it and Steve jerked awake, gasping.

Three months ago, an unknown assailant had managed to abduct Lt. Commander Steven J. McGarrett, burying him in a box in the middle of the jungle of O'ahu, leaving him there to die. Seventy-eight hours later, Steve had shown up on an old man's lanai, dirty, wild-eyed, dehydrated and exhausted. He'd been jumping at at every noise, extremely sensitive to sound, touch and light. One of the EMTs had recognized their unknown victim and had immediately called Five-0. However, Det. Danny Williams hadn't been that far away from the scene in the first place. The moment Danny had arrived, their patient had finally calmed down.

As of today, Steve's abduction case was a cold case and his memory still had holes in it. The doctors at Queen's Medical had informed him that his selective amnesia was normal. It still frustrated Steve not to be able to recall everything, which in turn annoyed his partner Danny immensely. Of course, Danny expressed this in his usual way, with a vast amount of words, complete with hand gestures and in that particular fond tone that said ' _you stupid idiot_ '.

Danny made it his personal mission to watch over Steve, which somehow involved an electronic tether. At first, Steve thought it'd been payback for all the times that he'd poked into Danny's life and pushed his way into it. Then the unease set in whenever Steve got home after work, and he hadn't been so sure anymore. Despite that, Steve still couldn't figure out why he was sending a text message every day, no exceptions, as soon he arrived home.

The simplest solution would be for Danny to move in. Two heads were better than one in this situation anyway. With Danny right down the hall, in his sister's old bedroom, Steve wouldn't be so worried about someone getting past his defenses again. Aside from that, Danny wouldn't have to worry about knowing Steve's every good damn movement. He'd be there to see it.

However, Danny didn’t see it Steve's way, and no amount of reasoning changed his partner's mind. Danny's normally expressive face and hands stilled. His usual eloquence was reduced to a monosyllabic ‘ _No_ ’. After his third attempt, Steve stopped asking. There was something deeper going on with Danny. Something that required distance and time and space that Steve didn’t understand. The electronic tether became the compromise that worked for both of them.

Closing his eyes once more, as it was far too early to be up, Steve lay back down again and listened to the waves outside his window. He hoped that they'd lure him back to sleep, not realizing that he was getting lost in the sound of the waves lapping onto the shore.

*

Chin and Kono were working at the main computer desk at the headquarter of Five-0 at 'Iolani Palace, when Danny called in, asking, “Where's Steve?”

“Good morning to you, Jersey. He's not here yet,” Chin answered, having put Danny immediately on speaker to let Kono listen in. He frowned when he heard Danny curse and asked, “What's wrong?”

“Steve isn't answering his cell.”

“I thought you picked him up,” Kono answered, immediately reminded of the day three months ago when Steve had been kidnapped. She glanced at her cousin whose facial expression probably matched her own.

“I didn't!” Danny replied. “I wasn't supposed to.”

“Did you call him?” Chin said, opening another window on the computer and starting the first commands for a trace.

“He doesn't pick up. It goes to voicemail,” Danny answered.

“That's odd,” Chin remarked, knowing that Steve was usually quick to respond, no matter what he was doing.

“Let us try to get a trace on his cell,” Kono suggested and glanced over to Chin who nodded. Within a minute, Kono and Chin had located Steve's cell, which was still at the McGarrett home.

“Are you on the way to the house?” Chin asked.

“Just arrived,” Danny answered. “His truck's still there. I'll call you back in five.”

*

Danny entered Steve's house as usual, noting that the security was still in place. Only this time, he had his gun drawn. Carefully moving around, Danny cleared the first floor. Going upstairs, Danny checked the rooms. They were empty, save for Steve's bedroom. Steve was lying on the bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

“Steve?” Danny whispered uncharacteristically, scared out of his mind and unconsciously lowered his weapon. When Steve didn't react, Danny was sure his partner was dead.

Ignoring the feeling of dread welling up in him, he walked closer to Steve's bed. Danny put his gun back into its holster and reached out to poke Steve. When poking didn’t get a reaction, Danny shook him and called his name. Suddenly, Danny's arm was grabbed.

“Holy shit! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!” Danny exclaimed in surprise as he fell on the bed.

“Danno?” Steve asked, staring at Danny and sounding equally surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” The sarcasm was evident in Danny's voice as he wrenched his arm out of Steve's grip. “You're laying there like a corps, eyes wide open, not blinking, I might add, and you have the nerve to just calmly ask what the fuck _I'm doing here_? Damn it, Steve! I thought you were **dead**!”

Getting up, Danny started pacing and continued to read Steve the riot act.

“My partner suddenly decides not to show up for work, doesn't answer his cell, didn't even bother to call into the office to say he was taking the day off! I had to have Chin and Kono help me triangulate your damn cell in the hope of figuring out where you are, while at the same time thinking that you might be laying around somewhere with a bullet in your body because whoever snatched you three months ago might have decided to have a go at you for a **second time and finish the job!** ” By the end of his tirade, Danny's voice had risen to a shouting level. Pausing to take a breath, Danny really looked at Steve, immediately noticing the confusion on his partner's face, mixed with something that he couldn't place. Wondering what was really going on, he ran a hand through his hair, stepped closer to Steve's bed and asked, this time sounding calmer, “Are you all right?”

“I wasn't planning on taking the day off,” Steve replied, sort of answering the first half of Danny's rant. “I probably just overslept,” Steve said, trying to deflect, but failing massively. “What time is it?”

Danny normally would let Steve have a moment, but this time was the exception. This needed to be addressed _now_ , not days from now, when it would get blown out of proportion. Whatever happened this morning with Steve was exceptionally weird, and it had freaked him out to find Steve in a state that resembled death.

“It's a quarter to noon, and you're not getting out of this easily, _Steven_. While I appreciate finding out that you _might_ be able to oversleep like any other human being, I can sincerely tell you that it wasn't the case here. You, my friend, didn't oversleep. Sleeping involves closing your eyes, possibly snoring of you are a normal person. Even dreaming, which, again, involves your eyes, moving _under_ your lids. Oversleeping isn't lying there with your eyes open, clearly, I tell you, clearly not breathing. I was _this_ close to checking your freaking pulse to see if you were still alive!”

“What?” Steve blurted out.

This was a face that Danny was sure he hadn't seen on Steve before. Sure, there was surprise, but fear? Steve and feeling fear? Goddammit.

“You were lying there in your bed like a corpse, Steven,” Danny repeated himself. “What happened last night after I left?”

“The usual - I turned on security, showered, went to bed, woke up and fell asleep again... I think.”

“You think?” Danny asked, eying Steve closely. “There's more though, right? What else?” Noticing the odd glance Steve paid him at that, he added, “C'mon - I can see it in your face, it's the one that says _I know more, but Danny's gonna kill me when he finds out_. What's the theory?”

If anyone had told him, Danny wouldn't have believed it: Steve was fidgeting. Nothing else fit. Whatever it was, Danny wasn't going to like it.

“It's not the first time this happened,” Steve said, softly. “Last weekend when I was watching football. I saw the kickoff, then it was suddenly two hours later.”

“But?” Danny asked, noticing the little frown lines between Steve's eyebrows show up. “C'mon, that's not all yet, right?” At his partner's hesitation, he added, “We can go downtown to that doctor of yours at Queens Medical, if you prefer that than talking to me, Steve.”

“No!” Steve exclaimed. “I know what this is, Danny. I'm not going to the hospital. It's complicated.”

“Complicated how? Is it the ' _I'm dying and this is the end game_ ' complicated or the ' _You don't need to know_ ' complicated? Huh? A little help here would be appreciated, my friend!”

Danny watched Steve rubbing his face. As his partner looked back at him, he asked, “You done now?”

“Maybe,” Danny answered, his voice a little bit softer.

“Feel better?”

“If you don't start explaining _right now_ , Steven, I'm calling Kono,” Danny threatened.

Apparently, that had been the wrong way to go. “Danny, stop! It's complicated and _classified_.”

“So, Navy complicated.” Danny sighed. “You can't tell me.”

“Not yet,” Steve answered, as he got out of bed. “First, I need to shower. Then I'll tell you, because you need to know.” Steve referred to his state of undress, meaning the boxers and old Navy t-shirt he was wearing.

“Fine!” Danny threw his hands in the air. There was impatience in his voice as he yelled, “Tell me later how you want to screw up my life! In the meantime, I'm gonna call Chin and Kono to stop them from sending the cavalry. I'll be downstairs.” With that, Danny left Steve's bedroom.

“Wait! Danny!” Steve called.

“What now?” Danny turned and stepped back into the bedroom, very irritated with Steve, who by that point, had stuck his face out of the bathroom door.

“Call Chin and Kono, but don’t leave the room. Talk to me or...,” Steve gestured with confusion on his face, “something.”

“Why? What, is this separation anxiety now? You gonna jump out the window if I leave the room?” Danny asked, sarcasm evident in his voice. “Although, I'd like to remind you, you live in a two story house. While it's not that far to the ground, you still might break a leg, but considering you leap tall buildings in a single bound…”

“Funny. Really funny,” Steve said and Danny noticed the slight smile on his partner’s face.

“Yeah, I thought so. So you gonna clue me in now or later, because I’d really like to get some coffee.”

“I need you to stay here. Talk to me. I’ll explain, I promise. Just…it’s complicated.”

While he noticed Steve's unusually pleading behavior, Danny still considered coffee a priority. After all, it was noon and lunch was nowhere in sight.

“Yeah, yeah. Complicated and classified. Got it. But,” Danny said, pointing right at Steve, “and this is a really big but, if we are going to have a serious conversation at noon without anything to eat alongside, I need coffee. Lots of coffee. I’ll be back. You'll probably be showered way faster than I'd be back. Gimme fifteen minutes. Can you keep from offing yourself for fifteen minutes?”

Steve grinned. “I think I can handle that.”

“Good. I'm glad we had this little heart-to-heart male bonding moment. Next time, let’s try it with clothes on.”

 

*

While filling Kono and Chin in that Steve was fine, and yes, they were going to be awhile, Danny busied himself by making coffee. They were concerned, but Danny didn’t have answers for them. He didn’t even have answers for himself. It was complicated. He promised to call back in an hour.

Hungry, Danny dug around in the fridge for something to eat. Finding one of those small snacks Steve always kept around, Danny gobbled it up. At that point, the coffee was done and he made himself a cup, just the way he liked it. Checking his watch, Danny noticed Steve’s fifteen minutes were up and he still hadn’t come down.

Concerned, Danny went back to Steve's bedroom to check on his partner.

Danny knocked at the bathroom door. When Steve didn't answer, he knocked again. Still no answer. Cursing, Danny went inside. Steve was standing under the shower, not moving a muscle and looking as if he were turned to stone.

Looks like he'd have to wake the idiot up one more time.

*

“Steve?” Danny asked, and for a moment, Steve wondered why his partner was in the bathroom with him. “Are you there, babe?!”

“I'm fine... what...,” Steve realized that Danny had turned off the shower and was handing him a towel, whilst letting go of Steve's shoulder that he'd apparently been touching.

“You weren't back, so I checked on you. You were doing your corpse imitation standing up this time,” Danny said. “I had to touch you like before to wake you. Whatever this shit is, you'd better come up with a solution, cause I can't have you turn comatose on me during a firefight. That might end up in you getting shot. Or me, which is far worse.”

“So what now?” Danny asked, still standing in the bathroom near Steve and crossing his arms in front of his chest, a gesture that was quite unusual for him.

“Now, _I_ get dressed and _you_ go downstairs to the study,” Steve said, a slight smile on his face.

“You gonna turn into a statue again?” Danny asked.

“I think I’ll be fine, unless you want to watch me dress?” Steve asked, smirking and moving into Danny's personal space. He didn't know what made him do that, but a side of him wanted to tease his partner to see how far he could go.

“Watch you dress?” Danny didn't move away immediately, but instead grinned the way he usually only did when Steve had to drop his shirt during a case. “Unbelievable,” he added, shaking his head, leaving the bathroom to give his partner some space.

*

As Steve walked downstairs, Danny was in the study, pacing the floor. He looked up at his partner as he arrived. “You wanna go back to the office and talk there or talk here? Cause I really want to know what's going on with you, Steve,” he asked, sounding impatient.

“Here's better,” Steve answered. “Just a second,” he added, holding a hand up as he noticed that Danny wanted to say something. “Let me get something we need for this from the safe.” He went over to one of the pictures on the wall and took it off. Pushing in the numbers, Steve opened it and pulled out a small booklet, which he handed to Danny.

“What's this?” Danny stared at the booklet, noticing its governmental seal as well as the stamp saying that the booklet was ' _top secret_ '. It felt like an oxymoron. “Why you're giving me this?” he inquired, irritated, at the same time noticing the booklet's title. “The Sentinel Project?” He looked at Steve. “What's that got to do with you?”

“I'm a Sentinel,” Steve said, as if that would answer all questions.

“Okay,” Danny said. “So what's a Sentinel?” He felt like he was pulling teeth. “You want me to read a book instead of telling me what I need to know?”

“Yes... No! I thought you might not believe me if I only told you that I'm a Sentinel and you're my Guide.”

“Wait, what?” This time, Steve was moving too fast, without providing the necessary background information.

“I can see better, hear better, smell better than other people. I can smell the coffee and snack you took from the fridge. Something with chocolate? I know you had some of that fresh coffee already, because there's a hint of it in your breath.”

Immediately, Danny put his hand in front of his mouth and breathed into it.

Steve couldn't help but smiling briefly before he continued. “You won't be able to smell it, Danny.”

“No, really?” Danny asked, a mix of sarcasm and incredulity in his voice.

Steve wasn't sure that Danny was believing him. “Can I continue explaining?”

“Please, continue,” he answered, complete with a hand gesture that said, _no idea if I believe you, but I'll listen_.

“The project never had much success; only three soldiers developed their senses fully and found their true guides. Back then, when I was a candidate, my senses never developed. Despite that, I got trained what it meant to be one. When the project was disbanded, I was assigned elsewhere. The project manager made sure though, that we all had a handbook that we could fall back upon, just in case we needed to if we found our guides.”

“So, what's a guide?” Danny said, glancing through the booklet, then looking back at Steve.

“Your job is to ground me, give me the anchor, so I don't zone out. That's what happened last night and today in the shower.”

“That's all?” An all encompassing hand gesture accompanied Danny's next sentence. “And the Navy isn't gonna suddenly drop by and kidnap you and probably me too, and I'll never see Grace again?”

“No, that won't happen. They know that a sentinel is tied to the land and his guide. The project tried to force the connection to a larger area, but it didn't work. Sentinels are directly tied to the land they protect. My connection is here, to Hawai'i, to O'ahu, to you. Nothing can change that. You're stuck with me.”

“That sounds like a marriage,” Danny said. “I'd like to remind you of something here though. We've never dated. We've never even kissed and now you're asking me to let go of my privacy and be there for you 24/7? That's asking a lot, _Steven_. First you rope me into the unit, which, I have to admit, I occasionally like working in, save for your shenanigans, but now, you're dropping all this into my lap and tell me to be attached to your hip or practically become your wife. I never signed up for that bit.”

“Actually, Danny, it's the other way around. I'm your wife, so to speak.”

Danny snorted, but still noticed the dejection in Steve's face. Sighing, he added, “Fine. I've seen you turn into a corpse twice today. That's more than enough in my life. I'll move in, I'll read your booklet but I'm gonna quiz you about this. Okay?!”

Steve smirked, “Thank you, Danny.”

*

Somewhere else in the pacific, Lt. Catherine Rollins, assigned on the USS Enterprise had just decoded some interesting chatter:  
 _  
“Hedgehog to Mother, copy Mother?”_

 _“I copy Hedgehog, go.”_

 _“Subject 9 is online and active. Did as instructed. Potential targeted and insight. Awaiting further instructions. Approach or fall back. Copy?_

 _“Stand down, Hedgehog.”  
_

 

END (for now)


End file.
